Smooth Operator
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Due to his palsy, Charlie starts to have trouble with some of his everyday routines, meaning Elsie will need to assist. Written for tumblr's chelsie-prompt of 'whiskers'.
He saw the red, dripping down into the basin, before he felt the sting of the cut. When the pain did come, it was as sharp as the razor which had caused it.

He reached for a towel and managed to knock the ceramic jug holding his tooth brush and powder onto the floor. He muttered a vulgar curse at the shards scattered across the black and white mosaic tiled floor, lying in wait for him to cut his finger as he gathered them up, he supposed.

To add insult to injury, Elsie suddenly popped her head into the room from the hallway.

"I thought you were already downstairs in the kitchen," he grumbled, embarrassed that she should witness his complete ineptness.

"Whatever happened?"

He grunted and held up his right hand so she could see the way it was currently shaking uncontrollably.

"Stand still, I'll fetch the dustpan."

"I don't know how you put up with me," he grouched after they'd cleaned the floor without further incident.

He'd lowered himself into a stool which sat alongside the foot of the bathtub, and was attempting to stem the flow of blood with a cloth and an alum block. "I can't even make myself look respectable."

"You could grow a beard," she suggested.

"And look like a native!" he protested. "I should not be able to leave the cottage! People would start to say the palsy is making me lose my marbles as well, looking like a wild man of Borneo."

Unexpectedly she laughed at his last comment and dropped a kiss upon the top of his head. "No one would ever think such a thing. You always look spic and span."

He merely grunted, musing that he must look anything but at the moment, sporting a red welt in amongst a thicket of whiskers and patchy white foam. Unlike Elsie, he noted, who had used the bathroom before him. She smelt clean and sweet. Her pale complexion glowed, making her pretty blue eyes seem even more prominent. Her hair was pinned up into a tidy roll, exposing her elegant neck.

"Wait here," she ordered, snapping him out of his daydream. "I'll be back."

As usual, he did as his wife said. He heard her bustling around the kitchen and disposing of the remnants of the broken jug. Then, after a few minutes, the kettle whistling. He shrugged; she always did have a penchant towards making tea in times of crisis.

He sat a little straighter when he heard her tread on the stairs.

"How's the nick?" she asked, entering the bathroom, balancing an enamel basin and an armful of towels.

Instead of replying to her question, he asked his own, "What are you doing?"

With her reply, and not for the first time, Elsie rendered him momentarily speechless: "I'm going to shave you."

Leaning down, she peeled back the cloth he was holding firmly to his face to inspect the damage, causing him to visibly wince.

"Men are such babies," she gently chided.

"Women will never know how much a shaving cut to the face hurts," he blustered.

"I doubt it equals the pain of childbirth somehow," she drawled, wrapping one of the towels she'd fetched around his face before he could utter any sort of comeback.

It was hot and soothing. She'd obviously used the kettle's steam to create the same effect as would a barber. Unable to stop, he let out a sigh of pleasure.

Next, she squeezed a small amount of shaving soap into the enamel bowl. "We'll have to buy a new jug next time we go into Ripon," she noted as she spun his shaving brush around in circles to create a lather, her actions seemingly expert.

He pulled the towel from his face. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

She only laughed at his tone. "I've watched you. What other man would you imagine I've shared a bathroom with?"

He opened his mouth to reproach her, but before he could he was silenced as she stepped closer and began to sweep the brush across his face.

"Perhaps you might also buy one of those new safety razors."

He found a way to speak at such a ridiculous suggestion! "What? Buy a razor that will only last one or two uses at the most? I can't understand how so many men can condone such grand waste for the sake of convenience." He pointed to the ivory handled razor sitting on the edge of the sink. "That will last for another 30 years if I treat it right."

At the end of his tirade, her hand had stilled. He looked up and instead of the exasperation he expected, she was looking at him lovingly.

"Elsie?" he rasped.

"At least I know you'll never throw me over for a newer version," she whispered.

Whilst rolling his eyes at the mere suggestion, he still placed his hands around her waist and squeezed ever so gently, reassuringly.

"Now…" She leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose before turning to put down the brush and take up the razor.

As she carefully folded the blade open from the handle, it shimmered in the natural light coming in through the uncurtained window. Just like the red in her hair, he thought. That Celtic colour often caught in the light and dazzled him, catching him unawares.

She moved impossibly closer, gliding between his legs. He caught a whiff of lavender as her face hovered near his face.

"One way the whole time, right?"

"You're making me nervous," he admitted.

"Shhh." She nudged him until he leaned into a comfortable angle.

He found himself focused on her bottom lip, caught beneath her top teeth as she concentrated on her task. Only the threat of another cut stopped him from reaching out and running his thumb along its tempting plumpness.

He felt only the gentlest pressure on his face before she turned away to wipe the blade clean on another of the fetched towels.

As the blade swiped across his face again and again, he admitted that anxiety was not the entire reason for the twinge in the pit of his stomach. Shamefully, he recognised that it was lust.

He had to close his eyes. Her comely breasts were at the perfect height. If he should just turn his head and seek one of her luscious pink nipples through the material of her day dress…

"Keep still," she warned. "I'm about to do around your lip."

He kept his eyes shut and obeyed. Her fingers fluttered softly across his skin several times to position his face just as she thought necessary. Both of their breaths became louder in the quiet room.

"There, finished," she finally said, just when he thought his control was going to snap and he was going to manhandle her like an unshaven savage he'd fretted he might become earlier.

He opened his eyes, she was facing the basin, her back to him, closing the blade and returning the razor to its home on the bathroom's small shelf.

"Might I have another towel?" he asked.

"Oh! Yes, of course."

She spun on the spot for a moment, flustered and flushed, before she reached for the towel. Instead of placing it upon his newly shaven skin, she stayed standing a full arm's length away and held it out.

"Elsie?" He wondered at her abruptly changed mood.

She looked around the suddenly closed-in room, directing her gaze to anything but him, it seemed.

"Elsie?" he probed again.

"Breakfast," she said briskly, moving towards the doorway.

Showing speed that surprised even him, he caught up to her near their bedroom entrance. He could not have planned _that_ better if he'd tried, he thought.

Within three strides he was able to manoeuvre her to the edge of the bed. Then, one kiss was all it took for her to collapse dutifully onto the mattress. He followed her quickly.

"Charlie… Breakfast…"

"When it comes to bedroom overtures, that isn't the most romantic I've heard," he murmured between flicking at the buttons and clips of her bothersome clothes.

"It's morning."

"Yes, and you no longer need to rush to the abbey," he noted, happily revealing more and more bare skin. "And we need to give you a mark out of ten."

Her usual gumption reared its head at that last comment. She pushed on his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"If you get a rash from my face, you'll have no one but yourself to blame," he announced pompously.

"Why, listen here-"

He attempted to silence her by sliding his face along her lower belly, targeting that secret place between her legs that would taste better than any breakfast she should want to serve.

It apparently worked, as she soon gave up her protests about his arrogance. Instead she settled on emitting moans of pleasure.

Indeed, his last coherent thought was that she should receive top marks in gentleman's grooming, considering they both seemed quite satisfied with the results.

The End

A/N: Thanks, Tina. I was obviously having a 'moment'!


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